


let's roll onto something new

by fictionalcandie



Series: the one where Sirius is sometimes a girl [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Getting Together, M/M, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:23:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalcandie/pseuds/fictionalcandie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's an ordinary evening out at the pub with his mates—and then James comes back from the loo to find a girl where he left Sirius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's roll onto something new

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic in 2012. It was supposed to be a silly—and _little_ —thing about Sirius being a girl and it messing with James's head but it turned into this whole... thing. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. /o\
> 
> Title is from the song _Somebody Told Me_ by The Killers, because reasons. Much thanks to [duva](http://archiveofourown.org/users/duva/pseuds/duva) for beta-ing, and also putting up with my blathering about this even though it was one of the few of my fics that she'd never requested.

Death Eaters are to blame.

James has no proof of this, and whenever he’s said it everyone else—all right, only Lily and Sirius so far, but they’re _everyone_ he’s had a chance to—tells him that he’s being ridiculous, but he is completely convinced that Death Eaters are to blame. Nobody else has it in for him (at least, he hopes nobody else does) and whoever’s responsible has to have it in for him, because this is _obviously_ a pointed attack on his sanity and equilibrium and all that other nonsense, and that’s really all there is to it, as far as he’s concerned.

Sirius has been turned into a _girl_ , and Death Eaters are to blame.

“James?”

Sirius has been a girl—no, actually, James isn’t going to put it that way, he refuses: say instead, _in_ the body of a girl; he’s still Sirius, even if he is bizarrely a she right now—for almost a half an hour, and it isn’t any easier for James to handle than it was when James first came back from the loo and found Sirius sitting on his stool and staring wide-eyed down at his own chest.

James might have thought Sirius was playing a trick on him, trying to confuse him by convincing some girl to take his seat and tell James that she was Sirius, except she was wearing exactly the clothes Sirius had been when James walked away, right down to the shirt he’d pilfered from James’s closet because he’d wanted a ‘nicer’ look than his t-shirt apparently afforded. (James thought this was a particularly cruel touch, and a further sign that this sex-swap thing is obviously the evil, sneaky scheme of some evil, sneaky person who has it in for James, because Sirius-as-himself has shoulders that are really quite broader than James’s are, and he never even tries to do up all the buttons when he steals James’s shirts. Which means that Sirius-as-a-girl has about four too many buttons undone for him to look decently-dressed enough to meet James’s mum, especially given the rather impressive bust he’s acquired, because quite a bit of that bust is showing now, and he’s not wearing a bra so James has no trouble at all seeing— _No_ , he is not thinking that.)

Besides, Sirius-as-a-girl’s eyes are _exactly_ the same as Sirius-as-himself’s; there’s no faking those lashes or that particular grey, except with Polyjuice, and Polyjuice doesn’t cause sex changes. It’s definitely Sirius, even if it _is_ Sirius three inches shorter than James and _suddenly a girl_.

“James!”

James hadn’t even been gone that long. Five or six minutes, at most, he’s pretty sure. That shouldn’t have been enough time for his best friend to turn into a _girl_. Especially not without anyone else at all in the whole bar noticing, damn it.

“ _James_ ,” the voice trying to get James’s attention repeats, getting really insistent and more than a little high pitched.

James turns his attention back to the fellytone. “Sorry, Lily. What?”

“Your parents say bring him over,” Lily tells him, her voice taking on the familiar quality that lets him know she’s said this at _least_ twice before, and if she has to say it again there will be _consequences_ and he will _not_ enjoy them. “Your father specified ‘right _now_ ’ and your mother wants you to make sure his clothes are decent.”

“But I can’t—Lily, he’s a _girl_!”

“Yes,” Lily says, and James recognizes this tone of voice, too; it means she’s losing patience with him, and quickly. He doesn’t like this tone. “That’s the _point_ , James. Now get him away from the Muggles and bring him over to your parents’. And don’t forget to call Remus.”

James hears a click at the other end of the line which he figures means she’s hung up on him. He puts the receiver on its little cradle-thing and makes a face at it for a minute before he sighs and drags himself out of the fellytone booth he’d retreated to as soon as he’d grasped the evilness of the situation.

Over at the bar, Sirius seems to have somehow managed, without any apparent effort, to attract the attention of the bartender, two grey-haired men in terrifyingly sharp-looking suits, a small group of young men with spiky hair and well-inked bodies prominently on display in their sleeveless shirts, and four extremely large individuals in leather jackets with approximately half a head of hair between them, not counting the Dumbledore-worthy bushes descending from their chins. James sternly tells himself that he is _brave_ and that this does _not_ make him nervous.

No, there’s some other explanation for the twitchy feeling under his skin. Definitely. He just has no idea what it is.

“Well?” Sirius asks quietly, as soon as James is close enough to hear him. “What’s the plan?”

James stares very hard at Sirius’s eyes so he won’t look down at where Sirius’s breasts are just about spilling out of his shirt, at the stiff little peaks of his nip—but James is not looking at that. “Mum wants me to button your shirt,” he announces, and tries to ignore the grumblings coming from Sirius’s admirers, “and take you home.”

“Home?” Sirius frowns slightly. “Uh, which home?”

“Home-home,” James clarifies, and makes the mistake of letting his gaze drift down after all. Yes, he can definitely see— _No, Potter_.

“ _Why_?” Sirius mutters, but he slides off the stool, pausing once he’s standing to hike up the now-too-long legs of his jeans. James is relieved when Sirius then starts trying to button the shirt on his own; he’s pretty sure he’s not up—er, not _prepared_ to handle that. “Your dad’s not going to make fun of me, is he?”

“He wouldn’t do that,” James says, frowning and still staring at the relative safety of Sirius’s head. He wonders if Sirius’s hair always looked that thick and shiny and soft, or if that’s just a product of his being suddenly a girl. He isn’t willing to bet one way or the other. “I don’t think.”

One of the spiky-haired young men steps forward suddenly, elbowed and shoved by his friends, and clears his throat loudly. He’s also staring at Sirius—but not at his head. “Do you and your brother live near here?” he asks, with a leer that he probably thinks is attractive.

“Who?” Sirius asks, frowning. The boy jerks a thumb at James, who feels the urge to break it just on principle, but Sirius is laughing in realisation. “Oh, James. _He’s_ not my brother.”

The spike-head looks relieved, but only a little. He glances at his friends, before stepping even closer to Sirius and mumbling, “Well, then, does—does your boyfriend bring you here a lot?”

Going red, James watches as what feels like every single one of Sirius’s admirers leans forward slightly, waiting for the answer.

Sirius blinks and then stares. He looks honestly surprised. “He isn’t my boyfriend, either.”

The way the punk’s face brightens makes James’s skin crawl. It also kind of makes him want to contradict Sirius, which is _completely_ weird and not at all acceptable, what the bloody _hell_.

He settles for grabbing Sirius’s arm and yanking him toward the doorway. It turns out to be a good thing that he doesn’t let go of Sirius, because he’s not as steady as he usually is in his big, clunky boots. They manage to make it out of the pub just fine, but there’s a particularly precarious moment just outside of it, and Sirius topples right over into the arms of the man about to go inside.

Who, thankfully, turns out to be Remus.

“Steady there, miss,” Remus says, taking Sirius’s arms and courteously setting him back on his feet and glancing over his shoulder. “I beg your—James?”

James opens his mouth to respond, but Sirius gets there first.

“Hullo, Moony!”

Remus’s eyes snap back to Sirius. He gapes.

“Well,” James sighs, “Now at least I don’t have to call you and tell you that tonight’s off.”

“ _Sirius_?!”

Remus is still gaping. Sirius throws an arm around his shoulders. “Mate, what would you say if I told you that I just got hit on by an _entire bar full of men_?”

“That I don’t blame them,” replies Remus, dazedly. He’s _still_ gaping, now at Sirius’s chest. “You’re a _girl_?”

James wonders if it’s all right to punch your friend for ogling your other friend who is suddenly and strangely a girl. It probably isn’t. “Damn Death Eaters,” he mumbles.

“What?” asks Sirius, turning.

“Mum’s waiting,” James says hurriedly, and drags them to the nearest alley so they can apparate back to his parents’ house. Somehow it doesn’t occur to him to _not_ drag Remus as well as Sirius. Possibly it’s just habit, but more probably somewhere in his subconscious mind he wants _reinforcements_.

—

At his parents’ house, Lily answers the door and leads them into the living room, already eyeing Sirius speculatively. “She really is a girl,” she says, once everyone has greeted James’s parents.

“Of course he is.” James gives her an indignant look. “I said he was.”

“It wasn’t a first,” Lily retorts.

“Children, please,” implores Mum, and the next thing James knows, she’s got an arm around Sirius, leading him to the couch. “Sirius, you poor thing. How are you feeling?”

“I got hit on by a _whole bar_.” Sirius gives her a dazzling smile. James can’t help thinking it looks wider, and disconcertingly more lush, than usual. Sirius’s usual— _male_ —smile was already really wide. It’s… weird. “I’m feeling _great_.”

“But when did this _happen_?” Remus is demanding, in his best bewildered tone.

James shrugs helplessly. “I went to the loo,” is all he can say.

“What? Seriously?” exclaims Lily. “That’s all you’re going to tell us?”

“That’s all I _know_ ,” retorts James. He stares at Sirius some more. “I think it was Death Eaters.”

“Don’t be stupid,” says Sirius. He’s still grinning. “Muggle establishment, James.”

“Maybe it was a potion someone slipped him. Did you drink anything strange, Sirius?” Remus demands, leaning forward intently.

“Again, Muggle establishment. And I had a beer,” Sirius says, voice a shade too light to be normal. He keeps looking down at himself, occasionally doing things like lifting his arms or sticking his legs out straight in front of him, like he’s taking inventory of his new body parts or something. “Hey, Lily?”

Lily turns her head so she’s looking at Sirius instead of staring narrowly at James. (James is relieved. It was starting to creep him out a bit.) “Yes, Sirius?”

“You’d say we’re about the same size, right?” asks Sirius.

Everyone else turns to stare at him.

“Sirius,” Lily says slowly. “You’re at least an entire head taller than I am.”

“All right, so I’m maybe I’m longer, but I’m _skinnier_ with it,” replies Sirius, as if that makes any kind of sense whatsoever and is a completely reasonable statement which doesn’t scramble James’s brains to think about, at all.

Lily arches her eyebrows at him, but doesn’t argue (James can’t tell if that’s because she agrees, or can’t be bothered disagreeing aloud). “Where are you going with this?” she asks.

“Can I borrow some of your clothes until I’ve had a chance to go shopping?” Sirius pulls not so subtly at the front of his James shirt. “A bra, specifically.”

“ _Excuse_ me,” squawks James.

Lily actually goes ahead and just eyes Sirius’s chest critically.

James is pretty sure his brain melts and drips out his ears all the way to the floor.

I think I have one that should fit you well enough to hold you over,” Lily says after a moment. She tilts her head slightly to one side. “Were you planning to do your shopping tomorrow?”

Sirius nods. He’s grinning too widely again. “Luckily, I have the day off!”

“Oh, Merlin,” James mutters, and drops his head into his hands.

It’s just more of the same after that, until apparently Mum has decided that everyone is just fine—or, close enough to fine—after all, and she’s tired of them cluttering up her living room arguing, and she shoos them all off home.

Dad hasn’t said anything the whole time, but James is pretty sure his lips are twitching suspiciously.

James doesn’t see what could possibly be _funny_ about _this_.

—

James is kind of hoping nobody will notice that Sirius has become a girl, only he fails to keep that in mind when he agrees to go to Diagon Alley with him—her—two days after he turned into her while James wasn’t looking. Sure, at first nobody there seems to connect the black-haired, twinkly-eyed woman with the man James usually walks around next to, but ever since Sirius’s girlification James has been having all kinds of bad luck, so naturally he runs into possibly the only other person who’d immediately recognise Sirius, even as a female.

Literally _runs into_ , what with Regulus Black rounding a corner really, really fast and nearly knocking James down.

“Oops,” he says immediately, and looks vaguely shamefaced right up until he gets a good look at James. “Oh. Potter. It’s _you_.”

“Hi,” James mutters, unable to think of anything else. He hopes, without much expectation it’ll actually happen, that Regulus won’t see Sirius.

Regulus is already cutting a glance over to James’s left, Sirius’s usual spot, and when he sees a girl there instead he does a double-take which would be hilarious except for the circumstances. “Um, where’s—” he pauses, then sort of gasps, and finishes, “Sirius?”

“Reggie,” replies Sirius, with a cool grin that James is pretty sure is mostly forced. “Hello.”

Automatically, Regulus drops his eyes to Sirius’s chest with its push-up bra and its lace peeking out over the last-done button of James’s shirt, then lefts them back up to Sirius’s face. He frowns. “Um.”

There aren’t a lot of reasons that James could name for the estranged Black brothers to speak to each other, civilly, but the elder randomly turning into a female is apparently on the short list.

“Like my new look?” Sirius asks, voice a shade too bright.

“You’re a _girl_ ,” blurts Regulus, and he looks completely confused. James knows the feeling.

“As of Thursday night,” says Sirius. She nods, and James’s attention is temporarily caught by the shiny swing of her hair. He wonders if it always did that. Since this is _Sirius_ , it probably did.

Regulus keeps staring. “That is _weird_.”

“You can say that again,” James mutters. Sirius elbows him in the ribs.

“That is weird,” Regulus says, because Regulus has always been an obnoxious little _shit_ to James.

Surprisingly, this time, it’s not as annoying as James was expecting. Sirius giggles a little.

“I need a drink,” says James.

“Okay,” says Regulus, still staring at his brother.

Somehow the two of them end up marching purposefully down the street toward the Leaky Cauldron next to each other, Sirius trailing behind them, occasionally getting lost in shop windows and then jogging to catch up. Every time she does, there’s a minor traffic incident involving most of the males she passes, and some of the females, and James resolutely does not look behind him to watch.

The traffic incidents, not her jogging.

Really.

—

“Come back and have dinner with us,” James invites, sometime later, and then has no idea whatsoever why he said it.

It seems like a pretty good idea, though.

“What?” Regulus’s brow furrows. “Why?”

“Because my parents seem to think this—” he sweeps an arm in the direction of Sirius, who’s flirting with someone over at the bar while Tom gets her drink (not that James has been _watching_ , or anything), “—is completely awesome. Which it is not. It’s bizarre and _terrifying_.”

“That doesn’t explain wanting _me_ there.”

“Of course it does. You think this is just as weird as I do. I need _support_ ,” James insists firmly, in his most logical voice, which he only brings out when he knows that what he’s saying is so far from logical that it wouldn’t even say hello to logic if they passed in the street. Fortunately, Regulus has never spent enough time around James to know that; at least, James is hoping that he won’t see through it as easily as Sirius and his parents do.

Regulus considers it for a moment. “Well… I guess I could do that.”

James finds himself beaming. “Excellent.”

—

James’s mum apparently forgets the whole fact that Regulus is a _Black_ , and untrustworthy and a brat and kind of really a little bit evil and probably soon to be a Death Eater, because she takes one look at his skinny frame hovering uncertainly just inside the front door and goes into full-on mothering mode.

“Merlin, boy, doesn’t anyone _feed_ you?” she demands disapprovingly, and the next thing any of them know, she’s got all three of them lined up down one side of the dining room table. Kind of like a row of ducklings, if ducklings were in the neighbourhood of six feet tall and black-haired and all _usually_ male.

Regulus looks a lot more bemused than James feels, but James kind of thinks he can understand that, because from what Sirius has said, he’s pretty sure that Mrs Black doesn’t even know what a mothering mode _is_ , much less _possesses_ one. Sirius just beams like both of his favourite people are finally in the same room and being civil to each other, right in front of her.

To be fair, James thinks upon consideration, that pretty much _is_ what Sirius is getting, here.

“You’re welcome back, of course, Regulus,” Mum tells him, over the pie she’s made for pudding. “James and Sirius eat here every few nights. One more mouth wouldn’t be an imposition, not with how _they_ pack it away.”

Regulus freezes with a forkful of blackberry filling and flaky, buttery crust halfway to his mouth. There’s a drop of custard dripping down his chin. His eyes dart from Sirius to Mum and back again; he clears his throat. “Do… do you always have dessert?”

“Tuesdays are chocolate cake days,” Sirius says, a purple smear of berry on her lips as she grins. Regulus’s eyes widen, which doesn’t mean much to James, but apparently means a lot to Sirius, because her grin widens too, and she declares, “I’ll pick you up at the Leaky Cauldron at six.”

“Okay,” Regulus murmurs, and eats some more of his pie.

Sirius looks very pleased with herself.

—  
—

Sirius has been a girl for three weeks. James finds it weird how much less weird it’s becoming. Like when Sirius walks into the kitchen, wearing a pair of socks that are far too big and one of James’s t-shirts that used to be tight and clingy all over when he stole it but now only stretches across certain bits, and announces, “I have _got_ to go shopping, James, you need to call Lily, I only have _three pub outfits_ , this is ridiculous,” and James doesn’t even twitch. (He would make a crack about Sirius turning into a girl on the _inside_ , too, but he distinctly remembers her saying things like that even Before, which is now just too weird, so he doesn’t.)

Actually, the fact Sirius has the body of a girl, James figures he could eventually get completely used to—already _has_ got used to, honestly, which is a little creepy in itself. What is still really giving him trouble, though, is how Sirius in a girl’s body is not, in fact, very different at all from Sirius in his original, very male body.

Some of the things Sirius does (like whining that she needs to go clothes shopping) are less odd-seeming now, with a girl’s body doing them, and that wouldn’t make James twitch on any level, except that when he thinks about it, he realises for the first time that there are _just as many_ of those as there are things that look weirder coming from Sirius’s female version.

(Like the way she still occasionally gets a nostalgic look on her face and asks James, “Do you remember those Muggle bikini pictures I used to have?”

Now, as when it was male Sirius saying it, James says “Yeah, Padfoot. Yeah, I do,” and Sirius declares that her favourite was the redhead, or the twins, or the one whose bright yellow bikini was such a startling, gorgeous contrast to her dark skin, and that will be the end of it.)

James sometimes forgets to miss the male version.

He doesn’t say that to Sirius, though, just goes and Floos Lily to come save Sirius (and him). He has no idea how Sirius would take it, which is possibly the strangest and most disturbing thing of all the weird and scary things that have shown up in James’s life since James went off to the loo and walked back to his pint to find Sirius suddenly a woman.

Lily’s eyes light up gleefully as soon as James delivers his message, anyway, and she says, “I’ll be over at three. Tell her to be ready.”

—

James and Sirius are over at Remus’s—

(“Who is it?” Mrs Lupin called, while Remus was letting them in, and James gleefully watched as Remus’s eyes actually _widened with horror_.

“Uh,” he said, haltingly. “It’s, it’s James and—Uh. Well.”

Of course, an unusual response like that meant that Mrs Lupin was sticking her head ‘round into the hall to see for herself. She started to smile at James—and then she just stared for several long moments. Remus’s gaze darted between James and Sirius pleadingly, like he expected them to do something to explain all this to his mother—which, James was absolutely not going to be responsible for that, he had no idea why everyone kept acting like he was supposed to.

“Hello, Mrs L,” Sirius said, into the silence, all careless and familiar, giving her the same, sharp little wave she usually did.

The curiosity cleared off Mrs Lupin’s face as quickly as it appeared, to be replaced with a resigned curiosity. “Oh, _Sirius_. Hello—boys?”

“Yes, hello,” Remus broke in, before grabbing James and Sirius by the arms and dragging them up to his room.)

—because it’s Sunday afternoon and Remus doesn’t have work at the library, and sometimes James is pretty sure Remus forgets that they’re out of school so he doesn’t actually _need_ to make sure that James and Sirius open a book each at least once a week.

“But you _always_ want to play Exploding Snap,” Remus is saying, in a chiding tone. He isn’t bothering to glare at Sirius, though, which means he knows it’s a lost cause.

“Because Exploding Snap is always fun,” Sirius replies. She grins. “Come on, Moony, I let you tell me all the things you don’t know about what happened to me—”

“Bloody Death Eaters,” James mutters, darkly.

“So loosen up and play a few rounds,” Sirius continues, ignoring James’s interrupting. She’s ignored it every time James has said it so far; he’s pretty sure that a reaction at this point would give him a heart attack. He still thinks he’s right, though. “That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

Remus sighs long-sufferingly. He turns to James. “Can’t you reason with him?”

James blinks. “Er. What?”

“Sirius!” Remus jerks a thumb at Sirius, who rolls her eyes. “He _always_ insists on—”

“She,” James says.

Remus stops, and _now_ he frowns. James frowns right back.

“What are you talking about?” Remus asks, after a moment.

“You called her ‘he’. She’s not.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure _Sirius_ is definitely a _he_ , James,” Remus says, very slowly, like he thinks maybe James has gone a bit dim. Dimmer than usual. ”Even though someone has made him _look_ like—”

James raises his eyebrows, and glances up at Sirius, where she’s sitting on Remus’s bed next to the side he’s leaning against. She’s beaming down at them—no, at _James_. It makes something in James’s chest feel all odd, warm and clenched in on itself, and also proves his point, because that wide smile makes her cheekbones look even more outrageous than they used to Before. _Definitely_ a woman. And she’s even dressed like one, too. James flaps a hand toward her pointedly.

“If Sirius wanted to still be a he, I’d call her one, but. I mean. Does she _look_ like she’s a he?” James shoots back. He uses the same tone Remus did. It’s only fair. He would have thought Remus would have worked this before James did—people are always saying how Remus is more _considerate_ than he is.

“I—But, _no_ —He—”

“I could take my top off,” Sirius says, leaning forward a little. “Would that help you work it out?” And now she’s reaching for the back of her shirt collar. Like she’s _actually going to_ —of _course_ she would actually—

“ _What_ ,” James says, alarmed. His hands go up without consulting his brain, grabbing at the bottom of her shirt like that could actually stop her if she really were determined to take it off.

“No!” Remus yelps, and he sounds as horrified as James feels at the prospect. “No, that’s—Don’t do that, it’s _really_ not necessary.”

Sirius stops acting like she’s going to start undressing, thank _Merlin_. She sprawls back on the bed, laughing brightly, and James decides it’s probably safe to let go of her shirt. He hooks one arm over her knee, just in case she changes her mind again and he has to make another grab at it.

Remus looks all pinched in the face now. “How is he _worse_ as a girl,” he says, under his breath, scowling at the Exploding Snap deck he’s started shuffling, apparently having decided to do the sensible thing and give in to Sirius.

James graciously pretends not to have heard him muttering. Sirius is still laughing, anyway. It’s a much better thing to listen to.

—

“I’m going to fail Transfiguration,” Regulus admits quietly, sitting in Mum’s den eating dessert one night a little more than two weeks after that first dinner. He looks desperate and strung out and so uncomfortably similar to Sirius, the day Sirius showed up at James’s front door with only a trunk and a wild, panicked stare, that James unexpectedly finds himself feeling a little violent. “I barely passed my O.W.L.s and I’m probably going to do even worse on my N.E.W.T.s this year.”

“You’re not going to do any such thing,” Sirius retorts.

“I am, though.” Regulus pokes morosely at the chocolate cake on his plate. “And Mother’s going to kill me.”

Sirius turns a narrow-eyed look on James, like she expects him to do something. What, though, he has no idea, because it’s not like he could—

 _Oh_.

“You aren’t failing Transfiguration, Regulus,” James declares obediently. “Not with us helping you.”

Sirius’s smile is instantaneous and gleaming, taking up approximately _half of her face_ , so James knows he did the right thing.

Regulus lifts his head. “ _You_ … What?”

James sighs. “Regulus. Reg. Do you really think Sirius is going to let you fail _anything_ , especially Transfiguration?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I—guess not. No,” Regulus admits, frowning. “But I don’t see what _you_ have to do with—”

“She isn’t going to let you,” James says, “which means I’m not, either.”

Regulus’s mouth works soundlessly.

Sirius laughs. “Come on, little bro. Can you think of a better pair of tutors?”

“No,” Regulus says again, staring at her now with something like awe, and a relief so obvious it’s kind of painful. “No, I definitely can’t.

“Exactly. I’ve got your back, little brother.”

The smile Regulus gives her in response is eerily close to the one on her face, only a shade or two less brilliant than Sirius’s own.

—

James stops with one foot in the kitchen of their flat, goes back five steps to just behind the couch, and stares over it at Sirius. “What _are_ you doing?”

Without lifting her chin from where it’s propped on her raised knee, Sirius glances up at him and offers a tiny, fleeting smile. “Painting my nails,” she says, her voice bright, but a little distracted.

“Your _toe_ nails?” James asks. Is that really a thing wom—people actually do?

“Yeah.”

Sirius doesn’t offer any more information. James stands there and watches for a few minutes.

“Sirius?” he says, eventually.

“Mm?”

“ _Why_ are you painting your toenails?” James asks.

“I haven’t had enough practice yet for my fingernails to turn out nicely,” Sirius says.

James blinks. He blinks again, for good measure. “But why—You want your fingernails painted, too?”

Sirius gives him another small, quick nod. “I’ve got a _really_ nice red, Prongs. There’s a shimmer!”

James has no idea how he’s supposed to react to that, so he decides he’s _just not going to_.

“Okay,” he says, instead.

“I’m going to ask Lily to do my fingers for me, the next time I see her,” Sirius says, and pulls her hand away from where she’s been brushing a blue so dark it’s practically black over the nails on her right foot. She stretches her toes out and wiggles them.

A long, long moment later, James tears his eyes away. “Right,” he says. “Well. You—enjoy that.”

Sirius makes a humming, agreeing sort of noise, and wiggles her toes again.

Deliberately averting his eyes from that oddly fascinating sight, James continues back into the kitchen—only to come up short in the middle of it, and stare around blankly. Despite his best effort, _he cannot remember_ why he was coming in here in the first place.

Evidence suggests that Sirius loves being a girl. Really, actually, loves it.

And James really just has no idea how he’s supposed to react to _that_ , either.

—

James really has no idea what’s going on when Sirius, on her way out the door one evening, ‘suggests’ that he go visit his parents for a while—apart from the vague suspicion that she’s planning _something_. At the time, he just figures it’s got to do with clothes.

He’ll be ashamed of himself about that later. And he will never, ever tell Lily, because he just _knows_ that she would throw disappointed looks at him for at least an hour and he’s keen to avoid that whenever possible.

Clothes, though, he’s very definitely thinking _clothes_ —and therefore he’s completely unprepared when Sirius shows up at his parents’ house four hours later, along with her kid brother and a ridiculous number of trunks glittering R.A.B. at him. (At least James was a little bit right; of _course_ clothes were involved somehow. Just, not in the total, all-encompassing way he thought.)

Regulus has a wet face and red eyes, and James discovers that it’s entirely impossible to hate the bastard, because the poor kid looks so scared and so damn _young_ , and anyway, it’s not his fault that he was brought up by a total _cow_.

Then Regulus says something to James’s mum, his tone like he’s addressing Merlin himself, and James comes to the startling revelation that he doesn’t even _want_ to hate the kid. Worse, he actually kind of _likes_ him, a bit. While still wanting to absolutely _crush_ him at Quidditch, of course, never mind James has been out of school and thus off the Gryffindor team for ages now. Some things are just eternal.

Then, as he realises what’s happening, what this _means_ , “Oh, you’re bloody _kidding_ me.”

Nobody pays him any attention.

“Not-Mum,” Sirius begins, smiling down at Mum with hope bright in her eyes, “Would it be okay if Reg here kips in my old room for a bit?”

Mum eyes the stack of trunks shrewdly. “Like you came to stay ‘for a bit’, you mean?”

“Absolutely like I came to stay for a bit,” says Sirius.

“Of course he can,” Mum says.

“Merlin forbid it get quiet around here,” Dad says.

“ _Oh_ ,” Regulus says, and as Sirius wraps her arms around him and tugs him in for a smothering hug, “Oh, _thank you_.”

“Mum?” says James, from the sidelines, a little dazedly. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be able to win the war with _cake_.”

“I make an excellent chocolate cake, thank you very much,” Mum says, smug.

Sirius just laughs and hugs her brother even more tightly.

—

“Don’t be silly,” Sirius says, later that evening, cleaning custard off her spoon with her tongue. It—seems to be taking her a while. She’s talking to Regulus, James thinks, but she hasn’t looked away from the spoon for several minutes. “D’you really think they’d have said ‘yes’ at all if they didn’t mean it?”

“Well, they’re… if they were maybe just being polite, I—” Regulus says.

Sirius gives the kind of disdainful sniff than James has only every seen _her_ manage to pull off without sounding ill. “Taking in a second runaway from the same family purely because it’d be rude to say no? Come off it, nobody’s _that_ polite, Reg.”

“Well. But, still. If—”

“It’s _fine_ ,” Sirius says, firmly. Her spoon finally spotless, she promptly scoops up another spoonful of custard and slides it into her mouth. When it comes out again, and she’s swallowed, she says, “Tell him it’s fine, would you, Not-Folks?”

“We really don’t mind,” Dad says, from down the table. “After all, you can’t be worse than Sirius.” A pause. “Can you?”

Sirius grins a little. It would probably be wider, but she’s busy licking at the spoon again.

“I’m not even _as bad_ as Sirius,” Regulus says, after a moment. “I _promise_.”

“See?” says Mum. “It’ll be just fine, Regulus.”

“Good! That’s that settled, then,” Sirius says, and, after a moment, “Right, James?”

She must _really_ like that spoon, because it’s clean again but her tongue’s still darting out and giving it little licks.

“ _Right_ , James?”

If James didn’t know _for a fact_ her Animagus form, he’d guess it was some kind of cat.

Like a panther, probably.

“Mm, yeah,” James says, quickly. “Settled. Right.”

Definitely a panther.

—

Mum corners him in the kitchen after dinner, when he’s carrying in the dishes she volunteered him to clear away.

“James Potter,” she says sternly. “You had best not be taking advantage of that poor girl.”

“What?” he says, wracking his brain for what she could possibly be talking about, when he sees Sirius through the door to the living room, laughing at something his father has said to Regulus—all lit up and beatific and _distracting_ —and it hits him. Hard, from _nowhere_. “I’m not— _Mum_!”

She graces him with a no-nonsense frown and goes on, “We see the way you’ve been looking at him, but he’s a sweet girl in a trying situation, and I hope you realise that being _his_ best friend doesn’t give you the right to make impositions on _her_.”

He boggles at her. _Seriously_? She thinks he would—that he could ever, of _Sirius_ —like Sirius would even _let_ him—

Oi, _they_ see?

Wait just a Merlin-cursed _minute_ here.

He narrows his eyes at his mother. “We?” he repeats, with a sense of dread. “What do you mean, _we_?”

“Your father and I, dear,” she replies calmly, like it’s obvious and not a big deal. “We were young once too, we do know what it looks like to fancy someone.”

“Fancy?” James blinks, frozen with embarrassment. His parents think he’s got some sort of inappropriate crush on his not-usually-female best friend. Worse, he’s half-terrified, because he’s just had it shoved at him that quite possibly he actually _does_. And his parents saw it first; he’s never been so mortified in his life.

“Yes. And I know it must be difficult for you, living with her, but… Well. Just, dear, try not to do anything that you’ll regret later.” His mother smiles and pats his cheek as she finishes with, “We’d hate to see either of you hurt.”

He stands there blankly while she goes back into the living room.

He’s getting to be so obsessed with staring at female-Sirius that even his _parents_ can tell.

Great.

He hates Death Eaters and their stupid evil plans.

—  
—

Two months after The Incident, James is baking—really _baking_ , actually literally making a cake from scratch, just because Sirius is beyond hopeless with an oven but her eyes lit up when James’s mum started telling them about this easy recipe she had—and Sirius is in the living room playing Exploding Snap with Remus, to surprisingly little grumbling, when Lily breezes through the front door with her most focused face on, acting like she’s expected.

Apparently, she _is_ expected, because James immediately sees Sirius bouncing happily to her feet, saying, “Finally!”

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Lily asks her. She sounds extremely dubious, for some reason.

James is putting down his wooden spoon and marching into the other room before he knows he’s moving at all. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going shopping,” Sirius answers brightly. James frowns; that doesn’t at all explain Lily’s tone or expression, like she’s girding herself for battle, or the last Quidditch match of the year. “The three of us.”

Remus looks confused too, at least. “Wait, we’re doing what?”

James isn’t really surprised that they didn’t tell Remus before this.

“Shopping,” Sirius repeats, ignoring everyone else’s lack of enthusiasm in favour of her own excitement. “I have nothing to wear on Friday.”

“Friday?” James says, not getting it. “But Friday is—”

Sirius nods. “Your parents’ anniversary dinner, yeah. And I have _nothing_.”

“What’s wrong with your dress robes from last—”

“They invited _Muggles_ this year, so robes are out anyway, and also, those are _bloke robes_.”

James stares at Sirius, standing with her hands on her jean-covered hips and one of James’s button-down shirts gaping slightly over her chest, one dark eyebrow raised. She could wear the robes, probably, but she’d do them nothing like the justice she’d done them as a man.

It kind of scares him that he knows that.

“Okay, so you need to go shopping,” James agrees cautiously. He glances at Lily. “What’s with her, then?”

“Nothing,” both people in women’s bodies—or, no, both _women_ —say quickly. Too quickly.

James decides he maybe doesn’t want to know, after all.

“Why do you need Remus?”

“Third-party opinion,” says Lily, as she starts bustling Sirius and Remus toward the door. She glances over at James, then raises her eyebrows at his roommate.

“Oh,” Sirius blurts, like she’s just remembered something. “And James? You can’t wear your robes, either. Obviously.”

James frowns. “Uh, okay…”

“So I’ll pick something up for you.” Sirius smiles brightly. “Some nice trousers, I think. Black ones.”

“Black on—” James starts.

But they’re already out of the flat, the door swinging closed behind them.

James stares at it for a little while.

“Right, then.”

—

Red dresses are pure evil.

James decides this while staring at Sirius in her new get up, with his entire brain liquifying and sliding down, horrifyingly, to his _crotch_.

Merlin’s fucking balls, his best friend is a damn hot woman.

A damn hot woman who is about to go with him over to his parents’ house—his parents, who already think he’s perving all over the poor, innocent thing.

The poor, innocent thing in question is smirking triumphantly at the expression on his face. She runs a hand slowly down her side, slender fingers pale against all that dark red, and far too casually asks, “What do you think of my dress, James?”

James thinks it ought to be illegal, that’s what James thinks. He also thinks his mother’s going to kill him when she sees the way he can’t stop looking at Sirius.

“It’s… nice,” he croaks after several too long moments.

“Good,” Sirius says, beaming wide and happy at him. Her eyes are dancing, they way they only do when she’s really enjoying herself.

James is so fucking buggered.

—

James’s parents’ anniversary dinner is even worse torture than James was afraid it would be.

“Your young lady is so very pretty,” says the old Muggle man who lives two houses down from James’s parents, who James doesn’t think has ever actually spoken to him before tonight.

“What?” James says, managing not to frown because frowning is neither polite nor cool. “Who?”

The Muggle nods his balding silver head across the room at Sirius, leaning against the windowsill and waiting for James to get back with their drinks. “I’d say she was a real keeper.”

James stares at him.

The Muggle smiles, and nods a few more times. “Yes,” he says, almost to himself. “Such a very pretty young lady.”

James chokes out a—hopefully polite—response, along with “Excuse me,” and heads back across the room, fast as he can without spilling Sirius’s punch.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Sirius asks, taking her glass out of James’s too-tight grip.

“It’s the same face I had when I left,” James says.

Sirius arches her eyebrows, but after a moment, shrugs and lets it go.

James lets out a breath of relief, and decides he’s going to forget that conversation with the Muggle man. Never going to think of it, ever again.

—

“That dress is _stunning_ ,” Dolores from Mum’s potions circle says, giving Sirius a thorough once-over with a professional air. “The colour really works for you.”

“Thank you,” Sirius replies, with the same pleased look she used to get after he and James pulled off an exceptionally clever prank. “I like the shimmer to it.”

Dolores from Mum’s potions circle nods. Her eyes dart to James. “Did your boyfriend help you pick it out, dear?”

James chokes on his punch. “Wha—I’m not—We aren’t—”

“No, I got it myself,” Sirius says, before James can sputter together a full sentence, and she’s _laughing_ behind that suddenly-blank face, James can _tell_. “James doesn’t really like to shop.”

Dolores from Mum’s potions circle keeps nodding. “Ah, well,” she says, reaching out and patting Sirius’s arm. “They never do, dear.”

“It’s really very sad,” Sirius agrees, nodding as well.

James decides that punch really is not cutting it.

—

James holds out his glass for the Firewhiskey he’s convinced Dad to pour him, even though it’s still early in the evening.

“Good looking gel you’ve got there,” Dad’s old duelling club president says, right at James’s shoulder.

James startles, nearly knocking his glass into Dad’s hand and spilling the Firewhiskey. “ _What_.”

“Ludlow,” Dad greets, pleasantly. He sets his own glass on the side table next to him, catches hold of James’s, and does a miserly job of filling it. “Enjoying the party?”

“Sure, sure, it’s a fine soiree,” Ludlow says, nodding. He eyes the bottle of Firewhiskey very obviously.

Dad sighs, and tips it slightly in offering.

Ludlow beams, and holds his glass out. “Cheers, Potter.”

“What was that you were saying?” Dad asks, as he’s pouring. “About a good looking girl?”

“Your son’s gel, Sisi, or something I think I heard,” Ludlow says, and waggles his bushy eyebrows at James. “The hot little number with the smile.”

“ _Sirius_?” James says. “Sirius is _not_ —”

“I don’t know that you should be going around calling girls less than half your age ‘hot little numbers’, Ludlow,” Dad says, mildly, smiling like he didn’t just cut James off. “What if your wife heard you talking like that?”

“She’d agree with me, of course!” Ludlow puffs out his chest, and pats at his ridiculous embroidered waistcoat. “She’s over there now, no doubt saying the same to the gel herself.”

James’s eyes do _not_ bug out of his head, no matter what Dad’s smirking face with the raised eyebrow is implying.

“I need to—Bye,” James says. He turns and hurries back to Sirius.

—

Dolores from the bookstore down the village, who’s thirty if she’s a _day_ , slips into the empty chair on James’s left, just moments after Sirius heads to the loo. Her smile is not only coy, like usual, but _sly_.

“Er,” James says, warily, and notices Mum watching them just before he would have leaned away. “Hello.”

“Oh, _James_ ,” Dolores from the bookstore down the village says. She leans an elbow on the table and props her chin on her hand; James is tempted to call the thing her eyelashes are doing _batting_ , but he’s a little too busy making sure no part of him is touching any part of her to be sure.

“That’s me,” James says. “And you’re—you.”

He doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to say to an opening like that. Fortunately, Dolores from the bookstore down the village doesn’t seem to need much.

“Will we be getting a happy announcement in keeping with the theme of the party this evening?” she asks.

Well, that makes absolutely no sense. James has no idea what she’s talking about.

“Uh,” he says. “What?”

“Oh, you know; anniversary party, weddings, engagements. _You know_. From you and your pretty someone. You’re just all over each other, aren’t you,” Dolores from the bookshop down the village says, and—yes, that was a wink.

“What,” James says, staring.

She keeps smiling sly and coy and—and _winky_ at him. “I saw it the minute you walked in together, you know, I saw it, I said to myself, ‘Why, that handsome lad has gone and found himself a woman at last.’ And you’re so _very_ attractive a couple, too.”

There are words in James’s head telling Dolores from the bookshop down the village that she’s barking up entirely the wrong tree, but he can’t seem to make them come out of his mouth. He can’t make _anything_ come out of his mouth, for all he’s moving it.

“I think Si’s out of his league,” Regulus says, from across the table, leaning over and butting in. Then, less helpfully, “I suppose there’s no accounting for taste, though.”

Dolores from down the bookshop turns to him. Her eyebrows go up a little as she takes him in, and her smile widens. “And who are _you_ , sweet boy?”

Regulus shows Dolores from the bookshop down the village his teeth, his eyes on James. “Her brother.”

“Well!” Dolores from the bookshop down the village says. She leans across the table and pats Regulus’s hand. It takes an unnecessarily long time. “Isn’t that just _lovely_?”

James decides he’s just going to be relieved that he’s no longer the focus of her attention. Yes. That seems like a sound, excellent plan.

—

James is sniggering over Sirius’s description of the man at Madam Malkin’s the last time she was there who thought he could give her unsolicited, inappropriate advice on which style of robes to buy—

“The idiot and his big, moist grabby hands wouldn’t have been able to tell an aubergine from a plum if they got up and did a song and dance routine identifying themselves.”

—when Mum’s old coworker says, through her chuckles, “Well, you’ve certainly managed to catch yourself a plucky one, James.”

James chokes on his laughter.

“Cheers, Clementine,” Sirius says, with a wide smile. James glares at her. If she weren’t rubbing his back in a surprisingly soothing way, he’d say something rude to her. Well, he’d consider it. It’d be a _possibility_ , anyway.

Clementine grins at Sirius. “You know, dear, this one here—” she wags a finger at James, who’s still trying to catch his breath, “—he’s a good sort. I’d not let him get away, if I were you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sirius replies cheerfully.

James groans. “Firewhiskey. Need more Firewhiskey.”

“Your dad’s got the bottle,” Sirius says, with a last gentle pat to his shoulder. “Better hurry if you want to catch him before he gives it all away.”

As this is perfectly sound advice, James decides to take it. He’s absolutely not running away.

—

James has decided that in this one instance, discretion is most definitely the better part of valour. With that in mind, he has, regretfully, relinquished his rightful spot beside Sirius to Regulus and Lily, and is sitting next to Mum in the den. She doesn’t have any Firewhiskey, but the Bottomless Decanter is right there at her elbow, so at least James can drown himself in wine.

He’s sure he’ll be safe here, right up until Maisie and Crispin—James doesn’t remember how they’re connected to his parents, but he’s known them what feels like forever—turn toward him and _congratulate him_.

“You’re still young, of course,” Crispin says, smoothing down the violently red bush he seems to think is a beard. “But some of us had begun to wonder, you know. Never a _serious_ girlfriend brought home at all?”

And Crispin _winks_.

More people have winked at James tonight than in the whole of his life before this. James has decided that he _hates_ winking.

“Yes, dearie,” Maisie is saying, nodding at her husband’s words. “It’s so nice to see you happy and _serious_ about someone.”

“Well, you know what I’ve always said—I didn’t care who it was, so long as he’s happy,” Mum says. She’s nodding, too.

They all, the three of them, focus there eyes on James, with these _expressions_ on their faces. If they weren’t such old, nice people, James would call them smirks. Knowing, smug, _awful_ smirks.

James looks from one to the other to the other and back again.

“Mum,” he says, very calmly, “please pass me the wine.”

Slowly, and raising her eyebrows, Mum does. “James?”

“I’m going to sit in the back garden.”

“The party’s inside, you know. The back garden is empty,” Mum says.

“I know,” James says.

He gets up.

—

An empty garden means no people. No people means that there isn’t anyone giving James ridiculous looks and talking about what a pretty, funny girlfriend he has. The girlfriend they think he has _in Sirius_.

James shakes his head in confusion. He cradles the Bottomless Decanter closer to his chest.

All of his parents’ friends seem to think that Sirius is his girlfriend, and James hasn’t managed even once to correct them. He’d think it was an outright conspiracy, but Lily hasn’t been present for any of them.

The thing is, he realises, that when they’re in a crowd, he stands too close to Sirius. It’s exactly as close as he’s _always_ stood. His eyes linger too long on Sirius, his attention is just a little too taken up with Sirius, Sirius’s name is too often on his lips—and it’s always been that way.

It’s less a wonder why everyone is assuming Sirius is his girlfriend now, than it is a wonder that no-one used to assume Sirius was his _boyfriend_ before.

James really isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do with that information.

—

“Are you going to tell me what the hell’s wrong with you?” Sirius asks casually, once they’re back at their flat, the party finally over and all his parents’ awful friends gone far away where they can’t talk about James to his face anymore.

James doesn’t answer, because he’s not sure he could do so without saying something sharp, or possibly hysterical. He goes into the kitchen for a glass of water, instead.

Sirius follows him, expression calm. “I could guess,” she points out.

“Don’t,” James grinds out.

Sirius hops up on the counter next to where he’s standing at the sink, staring down at his full glass and not drinking it.

“So, you’re going to tell me, then?” she says.

James stares at his glass for a little bit longer. He’s not even thirsty. Then he sets it down and turns to her. He says, “No, I’m not,” and kisses her.

She doesn’t make a surprised noise. She doesn’t push him away. She doesn’t hex him.

She winds her arms over his shoulders, wraps her legs around his waist, and pulls him in.

One of her high heels is digging into his thigh, and he tastes champagne in the kiss that he knows _he_ didn’t drink, but he’s exactly where he’s wanted to be for he doesn’t even know how long now, and she’s kissing back.

He sets his hands on her hips, and lets himself fall.

—

James wakes up a little before dawn, which is early even for him. He glances over at Sirius, unsurprised to see her still asleep. Looking at her pressed against his side, warm and cuddling and so familiar and strange it has his chest aching, makes him feel funny. Not exactly in a good way, either. He slips out of his bed and into his sweats, making as little noise as possible when he leaves.

The run he takes doesn’t clear his head as much as he’d hoped it would, and when he goes to check on Sirius after he returns, it looks as if she’s barely stirred since he got up, other than to snuggle deeper into what must have been the warm spot he’d left.

Except that the blanket slipped, and now her naked back is visible, the long graceful sweep right down to the gentle swell of her hips and the top curve of her bare arse.

James bites his lip and stares for a while, not sure whether he’s trying to imagine those shoulders broader, that back a little longer, or whether he’s trying _not_ to.

He goes to make breakfast when he starts to think about kissing all that soft skin.

He’s not expecting miracles, and he’s not even sure he _wants_ Sirius to wake up, but when making french toast and sausages doesn’t bring the beast from its lair—like it has _every single time_ James has ever done it for the male version of Sirius—James has to give himself a stern talking-to so he doesn’t freak out too loudly.

(“No, Potter, that _doesn’t_ mean she’s died in her sleep!”)

In the end, he drags on some probably-clean robes and goes off to see if Remus is awake, so that he won’t have to think about it.

—

If Sirius is at all upset about waking up alone the day after having sex— _seriously incredible_ sex, should anyone ask James, which he hopes they don’t while he’s sober, because he really doesn’t think he can talk about it—with her still-regularly-genitaled best mate, it doesn’t show at all when James gets home that evening.

“Hullo,” she greets him cheerfully, bouncing across the flat in a pair of James’s Gryffindor red boxers and a thin little silver top he thinks she bought with Lily last week. She wraps an arm around his neck and plants her face in his shoulder for a second, before pulling back and grinning widely. “You want to go out tonight?”

James’s world tips a bit more on its axis, and he can’t decide if that sounded like Sirius was talking about _date-out_ or just _out-out_ , like normal. “For what?”

“A beer.” She lets go of him, which makes him almost scowl for no good reason, but she’s still grinning. “I feel like doing something _fun_.”

James has the wild thought that, whatever she appears to be talking about, she’s _thinking_ about _sex_ , specifically _their_ sex which happened last night and which he could probably be very easily talked into repeating. That was definitely _fun_. He has no idea how to prove that she is, though.

“A beer? As in, only one?” he croaks, after a moment.

“Or more,” Sirius affirms, then she’s bouncing away toward her bedroom, presumably to put on clothes for going out. “Possibly whiskey!”

She disappears.

It takes James a while to go anywhere, but eventually he makes his feet move, and peeks down the hall.

Sirius didn’t close her door.

James swallows.

It’s just habit to close it on his way in after her. Really.

It has nothing to do with being shoved against it the minute he’s inside the room.

Really.

Absolutely nothing.

—

An hour and a half later, Sirius manages to get them out of the flat and on their way to the previously promised beer and possibly whiskey, with James’s head still spinning, but only a little.

(His mind keeps replaying Sirius’s hands hot against his chest, pushing until his back was flush with the door, and the way she’d grinned at him, her eyes gleaming wickedly through her lashes. He can still hear the sound of her knees hitting the floor and the swish of his robes as she undid them faster than he could think—and the feel of her mouth suddenly around him, the way she’d looked there at his feet with her top off and his boxers slipping low down her hips…)

Sirius catches attention when they enter the pub, despite that she’s dressed down in non-tight jeans and back in that same tiny silver top, though at least this time she’s wearing a bra under it. James would know, even if he hadn’t watched her put it on, because he can see the black straps if he watches close enough. So between that, and glaring at all the guys in the room who want to give her the eye, he feels he can be excused from noticing that they’ve entered the pub where _it_ happened, until Sirius has already ordered their first round of beer and shots.

“Sirius,” he exclaims quietly, and shoots her an alarmed look.

Sirius doesn’t look bothered. “I’m not traumatised,” she mutters, rolling her eyes, and carries their drinks to a little table back in the corner.

The table is a strategic maneuver on her part, James realises a few minutes later, when her hand appears in his lap. It’s not even an _idle_ hand, either; it’s a hand with _purpose_. Extremely _friendly_ purpose, of the kind that involves _cupping_ and _stroking_.

She leans in, nuzzling at his jaw and mouthing at his neck.

“Nngh,” he sputters. Then he flaps his hands vaguely—because it’s either do that or wind up embarrassing himself in a stupid Muggle pub in front of stupid Muggle chavs with really stupid haircuts—until Sirius gets the point and pulls all of her appendages back into her own chair.

She pouts at him, though.

“What?” James hisses, feeling turned on and disgruntled and not nearly inebriated enough. “You never _used_ to molest me in public.”

“Sure I did,” she says matter-of-factly. She looks put out about it.

James tries to process that. It doesn’t work. Instead of letting his brain break, he downs his shot.

—

When Sirius comes back from wherever she shimmied off to, looking exaggeratedly startled and unnerved, James is ashamed to admit that it takes him a few moments to realise what’s different.

“Oh, bloody _fuck_ ,” he exclaims, when he does, and scowls.

“Hi,” Sirius mumbles, sounding faintly dejected, and passes over the black lace bra she no longer needs because—fuck—she’s a _he_ again.

James doesn’t know which is stronger, his relief or his nausea.

—

They go back to Mum and Dad’s house. James calls Lily again, because she handled this better than him last time, and maybe she will again; she shows up with Remus in tow. James tries to figure out if he’s surprised, and decides he isn’t. He’s not annoyed, either, because the more people who see Sirius all—male, again, the more proof James has that he’s not going crazy.

“So you’re back to yourself again,” Regulus says after a moment. His mouth twitches. “I was just getting used to having a sister.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Lily demands immediately, loudly enough over Sirius’s quiet “I was always myself,” that James is pretty sure Lily covered it entirely, and he was the only one to hear it.

Regulus turns faintly pink while Sirius laughs weakly and stares at his hands. “You’re not my _sister_ ,” Regulus says, and glares half-heartedly at his older brother.

“Please stop hitting on my ex,” James whines. It’s selfish of him, but shit, that’s the _last_ thing he needs right now. Can’t _anyone_ see how upsetting this is for him?

“Everyone hits on your ex,” Remus replies, like it’s automatic. He’s got a cup of tea in his hands which he hasn’t done anything with since he showed up and was handed it, and he’s looking almost as shell-shocked as James feels, so James doesn’t hold it against him, not really.

“Not Mr Potter,” Regulus counters. James spares him a glance; Merlin, the poor kid looks all _earnest_ , like he doesn’t get that Remus’s remark is a joke. They _really_ need to work on that.

Still looking unusually glum, Sirius rolls his eyes; clearly, he sees the same problem James does. “Would _you_ hit on anyone else if you were married to Mrs P?”

Regulus’s eyes go all wide and he shakes his head quickly. He’s pretty obvious about thinking James’s mum is the best thing since the Founders, so at least there’s that.

“Neither would I,” Sirius agrees. He arches his brow at Remus. “And also, _I_ do not hit on James’s ex.”

“No, but you _did_ just spend two months as a _girl_ , hitting on _James_ ,” Lily snaps, all oddly sharp and pointed.

“What?” James says, and opens his mouth to defend Sirius—when he realises that it’s _him_ that Lily’s glaring at. “ _What_?”

“I do hate to break this up,” says Mum, walking in and interrupting before James can get an explanation out of someone (like Sirius, who’s giving Lily a truly impressive stink-eye, like she’s done something _wrong_ , instead of just confusing); “but it’s _very_ late, children.”

Sirius is the only one who manages not to look sheepish.

Mum smiles softly at the five people around her dining room table. “I’m going into the kitchen for a cup of tea. When I get back, I expect anyone not my son to be gone.”

Remus and Lily stand to leave before she’s all the way gone. Regulus starts to get up and follow them, too, a confused, wistful look on his face, but Sirius and James reach out at the same time and yank him back down. He squeaks.

“You don’t honestly think she meant _you_ to leave, do you,” James says reproachfully.

Regulus actually _blushes_.

“We have _got_ to get you trained better,” Sirius sighs.

Lily laughs as she leaves with Remus.

After a moment, Mum returns, cup of tea in one hand and her other around her wand, floating out a plate of biscuits and three glasses of milk. Regulus blinks really hard as the third glass lands right in front of him without so much as a waver, and he gives Mum the most ridiculous, stupidly pleased smile ever, like he’s just won the World Cup or something, and it’s almost exactly the same look that Sirius gave her years ago. Abruptly, James really wants to punch Mrs Black. (And hug Sirius, but _that’s_ even less new than violent thoughts directed at The Hag.)

“Are you all right, dear?” Mum asks, gently.

“No,” James says at the same time as Regulus, while Sirius grins and too brightly says, “Sure.”

At least one of them is lying.

—

James and Sirius wind up in the kitchen after they get home, leaning against the counter either side of the sink, each with a beer in hand.

“You think Remus is still going to try to work out what happened?”

Sirius snorts, watching intently as his fingers peel the label from his bottle. “Oh, like me being a guy again would be enough to stop him.”

“Hey,” James says, frowning and lightly knocking his beer against Sirius’s, catching his attention with the resultant _clink_ , getting him to look up and over. “What’s with the mopey face? You don’t miss being a girl _that_ much, do you? Already?”

“What? No, of course not,” Sirius replies promptly, and to James’s confusion it really sounds like he _means_ it, but he still looks like someone ran over his dog.

Which is to say, really bloody unhappy.

It clashes with the little silver top he’s _still_ wearing.

“So, what’s the matter, then?” James asks.

Sirius searches James’s face for a moment, then he sighs. “Nothing,” he says, straightening up. “Absolutely nothing.” He holds out his half-finished, thoroughly de-labeled beer to James, who takes it, confused.

“Si?”

“I’m going to bed,” Sirius says, directing the words to the air rather than James— _yes_ , James _can_ tell the difference, thank you very much—and walks out of the room.

James is still staring, still confused, for several minutes after he hears Sirius’s door close behind him.

—

If James thinks things will go back to normal, to the way they used to be, when Sirius becomes a guy again, it turns out he’s wrong. Not just a little wrong, but _really_ wrong. Maybe he shouldn’t have given in and slept with the girl version of his best friend—because ever since he did he can’t stop noticing that Sirius is _really_ attractive, no matter which him she is, and he can’t stop staring—but on the other hand he can no longer imagine ever _not_ being attracted to Sirius anymore.

It’s playing hell with his brain.

Every time he sees Sirius now—and it’s been a week so it _really_ should have worn off already—his eyes keep winding up somewhere they shouldn’t be, and before he knows it, he’s appreciating something more than he should. Like Sirius’s chest—when he was a girl it was adequately busty and yeah, James could more or less justify _that_ , but now he’s a man again, and James is staring at the broad expanse of muscle just as much as he used to look at the soft curves that were there before. Worse, James kind of thinks that maybe he almost likes _this_ more than the other, like it’s some kind of firm landing place that James would really, really love to just plant himself against and never, ever leave, not for at least a century. Maybe longer. (He doesn’t need to eat, anyway, does he?)

But that could just be because he’s had the one and not the other. It totally could. Well, maybe.

Either way, he really hopes Sirius hasn’t noticed.

Based on how often Sirius keeps taking his shirts off around James, he’s pretty sure that Sirius has, in fact, noticed—except that, on the other hand, he sort of suspects Sirius has always done this and James was just too stupid to know it.

Maybe it’s both.

Lily shows up at their flat in the afternoon to talk at James about something that’s probably important, or at least interesting, but Sirius is wandering around the kitchen in a pair of boxers—which James is actually convinced are _his_ , and that’s just _extra_ distracting—so James pretty much has no attention remaining for _her_ , what with all the rest of it having left his control and focused on Sirius. (James doesn’t think he ever wondered before what the dark hair on Sirius’s legs would feel like if he wrapped them, naked, around James’s hips. He’s pretty sure he never did, anyway.)

“Oh, my _God_ ,” groans Lily, after Sirius disappears back into his bedroom and James nearly falls out of his chair and totally fails at pretending he’s not checking out Sirius’s arse. “Are you two shagging again yet?”

“Er,” stammers James. He’s reasonably sure that’s not what she’d been talking about a minute ago. He’s completely lost why she’s talking about it _now_. “What?”

Her eyes narrow. After a second, she says, “Because if you aren’t, I want him.”

“… _what_?”

“Well, you got Sirius while he was still a girl, didn’t you?” James opens his mouth to lie and insist that no, he didn’t, but Lily throws a _shut up, I know you did_ look at him, so he snaps his mouth shut again without a sound. Apparently satisfied with this, Lily goes on, “And I obviously won’t be getting more from _you_ now, ever, so, really, if you think about it, it’s only fair—”

“You want to sleep with my best friend because it’s _fair_?” interrupts James, his voice rising incredulously.

“Uh,” says Sirius, standing in the hallway with one arm through a t-shirt, obviously frozen in the act of pulling it on. “This is a bad time. I’ll… come back.”

He turns and disappears down the hallway again before either of them can say anything. His door shuts all the way this time.

There’s silence.

“No,” James finally manages to spit out, sees Lily draw back indignantly at his tone, and suddenly he is _angry_.

“Sirius has a mind of his own, as you should be well aware, and he chooses who he’s going to sleep with on _his own_. I’m not going to pimp him out to you just because you think that I should fell guilty for… _whatever_ … it was you think that I did wrong while I was still with you.”

“James—” Lily tries to say.

“ _No_ ,” James snaps. “You think Sirius’ll just sleep with _anyone_? You think his standards are that fucking low? I’ve always suspected that you don’t exactly respect him, however friendly you two are, but if this is how you really feel, Lily, then you’d better leave _right fucking now_ —because I _won’t_ listen to that kind of thing about him.”

“James—”

“He is a _person_ , and I love him too much to let you just—”

“ _James_ ,” Lily says, more loudly. James stops. She’s smiling, and he kind of wants to hit her. It’s making him sort of sick to his stomach. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean it. I was _testing_.”

“… what?” James says, for the second time that afternoon.

“Despite what you think, I _love_ Sirius. Quite frankly, he’s my best friend, too. And I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to get him hurt.”

“So, you… don’t want to sleep with Sirius?”

Lily makes an exasperated noise and looks beseechingly toward the heavens. “ _Maybe_ , if he actually played for the right team, but no, I don’t.”

“The—what? Team?” James asks, not really hearing the words even as they leave his mouth. It’s not like they make any sense, anyway; this isn’t _Quidditch_ , he doesn’t see why anybody needs _teams_.

“You know, the sort of people Sirius finds attractive. _Men_ ,” Lily says, sounding very unimpressed like she does when she’s thinking that James is a moron or a toerag or both. He’s very familiar with that tone; she’d used it a _lot_ in the last couple of weeks before they broke up. “People like, oh, I don’t know, _you_.”

James almost doesn’t even properly register her answer, because it’s just occurred to him—She must mean—There aren’t that many reasons why Lily would believe that—

No, there aren’t _any_ other reasons that _anyone_ could possibly believe—

“I could hurt him?” he blurts, still stuck on what she’d said before, followed half a dozen heartbeats later by, “Wait, he wants _me_?”

Lily stares for half a moment, then covers her eyes with her hand. “God, he doesn’t get it—he really doesn’t know.”

James frowns. “Know what?” he demands.

“James,” Lily says, enunciating carefully, her hand still over half her face. “Sirius has always wanted you. That’s what this is _about_ , for Christsake.”

“… Sirius wants me,” James repeats, and tunes out whatever else Lily is saying, because his brain is busy being stupidly happy and his heart is doing triumphant somersaults in his chest.

“I can’t believe you didn’t pick that up from his sleeping with you while he was a girl,” Lily mutters. “Honestly, I thought you were supposed to be _smart_.”

“Lily,” James says, distractedly, getting to his feet, mind already somewhere else entirely. “I’ll talk to you later.”

As he heads down the hall, Lily rolls her eyes at his back. He can _feel_ it.

He doesn’t even care.

—

Sirius is sitting on his bed when James walks into his room without bothering to knock.

“James,” he says, glancing up, then quickly dropping his eyes back to his hands, dangling between his knees.

“Sirius, do—Are you twiddling your thumbs?”

“No,” Sirius says, too quickly, and stops.

“Right,” James says, rolling his eyes. “So, do you—I mean, er. The thing is, Sirius—”

Sirius looks up at him, oddly hesitant. “… yes?”

“I’m pretty much idiotically crazy about you,” James says, deciding to just go for it. “And I’d kind of like to spend the next fifty years touching you. Possibly even shagging. No matter _what_ you look like.”

Sirius stares. He looks like someone’s just hit him upside the head with a dragon.

“If that’s okay with you,” James adds, shrugging self-consciously.

Sirius’s mouth moves, opening and closing several times, before he apparently gives up on speech and just reaches out, grabbing James by the arms and dragging him down onto the bed where Sirius can kiss him.

—

Turns out, french toast and sausages don’t wake male Sirius up, either, if James shagged him the night before.

James is surprisingly okay with that.

—

**_epilogue_ **

When James opens the front door in response to the knock, Sirius is on the other side. She has her hands shoved deep in her pockets, most likely to hold up her jeans, even though he’d taken to wearing them pretty tight since—well, lately. Lily is standing next to her, a solemn expression on her face that James just _knows_ is covering up the laugh bubbling behind her twitching lips.

Sirius smiles sheepishly at him, great big endearing bow of her mouth as she meets his eyes through her lashes.

James stares. “Oh, you’ve got to be bloody well _kidding_ me.”

Damn bloody _Death Eaters_.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [on tumblr](http://fictionalcandie.tumblr.com) now!


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